Tuesday, July 15, 2014

Yay! I am so, so, so excited that today is finally here. It feels like I've been waiting for Addicted tolink to all the places you can get it :)
release ever since I wrote Ruined, LOL. Here's a

Anyway, in honor of Addicted's release, I'm putting up an exclusive snippet. And for those of you who can't get enough Ethan-- never fear. This isn't the last you'll see of him and Chloe ... I can't give details yet, but they'll definitely be around in the future!

Thanks so much for helping me celebrate release day! And there are two great giveaways going on right now to help celebrate Addicted's release-- one from my publisher and one from me-- so make sure you check those out as well!

Happy Reading!

BlurbEthan Frost returns in the breathtaking conclusion to New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Tracy Wolff’s seductive novel Ruined—perfect for fans of Release Me and Bared to You.As Chloe Girard discovers, there’s love . . . and then there’s addiction.

Ethan Frost is everything a woman could want in a man. He’s rich,
gorgeous, powerful, one of the most eligible bachelors in the world.

But that’s not why I’m with him.

I love Ethan for all the things no one else gets to see: his innate
kindness, his reckless spontaneity, his unwavering determination to use
his brilliance for good. I love the way he looks at me, the way he
touches me. The way he makes me forget the wreckage of my past and the
twisted fear that still lives inside me.

Excerpt:

“So, I guess I’m heading back upstairs,” Tori says
after a minute. “Unless you need me for something?”

“No. I’m good. Thanks, Tor.”

“No problem. Knock him dead, Chlo.”

“I’m not even going to see him today,” I protest.

She smiles wryly. “Of course you’re not.”

“I’m not.” I can’t. Just the thought of seeing
Ethan makes me shaky. I may not be angry at him, but that’s a far cry from wanting
to see him. And I don’t. I really don’t. Not now, when all I can see is Brandon’s
mocking grin. When all I can hear is him calling Ethan his brother. His brother.

Maybe it’s cowardly, maybe it’s self-preservation.
To be honest, I don’t really care. All I want to do is get through the day
without any more casualties.

Surely that’s not too much to ask.

Except obviously, it is. Because as I move to set
my briefcase on the passenger seat, I see a thick, cream envelope on the
passenger side floorboard. It’s facedown, but I don’t need to see the Frost
Industries return address to recognize Ethan’s stationery. He’s sent me so many
letters and packages over the last few weeks—all on or accompanied by official
company letterhead—that I’m pretty sure I’d recognize it in my sleep.

For a second, I’m tempted to take the coward’s way
out. To leave the envelope where it lies and pretend I never saw it.

Except I’ve never been a coward. And though there’s
a part of me that thinks there’s no excuse Ethan can make, no story he can
tell, that will make what happened yesterday okay, there’s another part of me
that wants him to try. That wants to see what he has to say.

It’s a double-edged sword, one I’m afraid I don’t
have the skill—or the heart—to keep balanced on. And yet, even knowing how
dangerous it is to my own mental health, I reach for the envelope.

For long seconds, I just hold it in my hands,
watching it like I expect it to spontaneously combust. When it doesn’t, I
eventually lift it to my nose and breathe in the elusive, barely there scent of
it.

Like rain on a sunny, summer day.

Like blueberries and warm, sweet maple syrup.

It smells like Ethan and the truth of that nearly
brings me to my knees.

Again, I almost set the envelope aside unopened. Again,
I think about shredding it, burning it, throwing it away whole. About doing
anything and everything to it but the one thing Ethan intended—opening it.

And yet, knowing Ethan wrote whatever is in there
exclusively for me, makes it impossible for me to do anything but run my
fingertips along the envelope seams in an effort to pry it open.

Eventually I get it open and the first thing that
falls out is a picture of the two of us.

Just looking at it gets the tears burning behind
my eyesall over again, but I clear my throat, blink several times. I’ve
cried too much in the last twenty-four hours and I’m not going to do it
anymore. Not now. Not today.

It’s hard though, very hard, because I remember
the day this picture was taken. It was right at the beginning, right after
Ethan and I first met. It was a charity event on the beach benefiting the
environment and I’d been trying, hopelessly I might add, to build a sand castle.
Ethan had come around and—much to my chagrin—sat down next to me. Within half
an hour, we’d built
one of the most impressive sand castles on the beach. When one of the judges
came by, she’d given us a perfect score and that’s the moment this picture had
been taken, Ethan’s head and mine tilted backward with laughter as we stand
over our sand castle and the tide slowly rolls in.

It had been a good night, one of the first nights
we spent time together. I had triedso hard to keep Ethan at arm’s length, but I
know that this is one of those times that I can point to and say that this
place, this moment, is when I began to really fall for Ethan.

Though I know I should probably throw the picture
away, I shove it in my purse instead. Then I pull out the only other thing in
the envelope, a folded letter that seems to actually be burning my fingertips.

For long seconds, I just sit there with the letter
in my hands, eyes squeezed shut and body shaking. Part of me is dying to open
it, dying to know what Ethan has to say. But another part of me is terrified of
what I’ll find, terrified of what his words will do to me. I’m barely hanging
on as it is. The slightest thing—good or bad—might very well send me over the
edge.

In the end, though, I don’t have a choice. Knowing
what Ethan wrote is a compulsion within me, one I have no shot at not obeying. With
a deep breath, I unfold the paper, smooth my fingers over the creases. And then
I start to read.

Friday, July 11, 2014

Hi Guys! I know I've been MIA lately, but trying to write as many books as I have in the last few Amazon or Barnes and Noble, in case you're interested. Anyway, I'm so excited and can't wait to hear what you think about Ethan and Chloe :) To celebrate, I'll be posting a few exclusive excerpts that you will only be able to find here. Oh, and if you've been waiting to give Ruined a try, now is the time! It's $1.99 on Amazon and Barnes and Noble right now.
months has been keeping me crazy busy. But I'll be around the next couple of weeks, I promise, because Addicted is coming out on Tuesday, July 15th! You can pre-order it right now at

Hope you enjoy!!!

BlurbEthan Frost returns in the breathtaking conclusion to New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Tracy Wolff’s seductive novel Ruined—perfect for fans of Release Me and Bared to You.As Chloe Girard discovers, there’s love . . . and then there’s addiction.

Ethan Frost is everything a woman could want in a man. He’s rich,
gorgeous, powerful, one of the most eligible bachelors in the world.

But that’s not why I’m with him.

I love Ethan for all the things no one else gets to see: his innate
kindness, his reckless spontaneity, his unwavering determination to use
his brilliance for good. I love the way he looks at me, the way he
touches me. The way he makes me forget the wreckage of my past and the
twisted fear that still lives inside me.

But sometimes it
terrifies me how much I crave him, how much I need him just to breathe. I
always thought it would be my past that ruined us, but there’s a
darkness in Ethan I never dreamed existed. Can we survive as his secrets
surface—threatening to unravel us both?

Excerpt:

“What is that?” I demand, staring at the huge
box Ethan is carting into my apartment thefollowing Saturday morning. He’s here early
because we’re supposed to be going to the VA hospital today to visit some of
the soldiers, and then on to a museum or two at Balboa Park. I thought we’d
leave right after he got here, but by the look of that box, now I’m not so
sure.

“It’s a Vitamix,” he says with a grin, all
blinding white teeth and innocent blue eyes. “I noticed when I was here the
other day that yours had gone MIA.”

“MIA. I suppose that’s one way to put it,” Tori
calls from her spot on the couch.

“Stop!” I hiss at her behind Ethan’s back, but he
turns at the last minute and catches me glaring at her with narrowed eyes.

“No reason,” I tell him, pressing a kiss to his
cheek as
he plops the box down on the counter, then does the same with the three Whole Foods bags he has dangling
from his wrists. “Tori’s just super clumsy, so she has an obsession with
insuring everything.”

My roommate chokes on her orange juice. “Yeah,
that’s what did the Vitamix in. My clumsiness. Not, say, your prowess with a
hammer.”

Ethan glances at me in amusement. “Do I even want
to know what happened to that poor blender?”

I think about it for a second, then shake my head.
“No, probably not.”

“That’s what I figured.”

He starts unpacking the groceries, and it’s my
turn to be amused as he piles fruit, vegetables and a couple nice cheeses on
the counter.

I roll my eyes. “He’s not going to be buying us
any more groceries, Tori.”

“Why not? It makes him feel good and it saves us
the trouble of going to the store and having to cart a bunch of bags up to the
apartment. I say it’s a win-win situation for everyone.”

“You would.”

“So, who wants a smoothie?” Ethan asks, unpacking
the new blender and rinsing it out in the sink as Tori wanders back to her spot on the couch.

“Are we seriously going to do this again?” I ask
him, wrapping my arms around his waist and pressing kisses between his shoulder
blades.

“Do what?” he asks innocently, as if he doesn’t
know.

“Fight about this totally extravagant gift that
you insist on giving me a second time.”

“Tori, please explain to your roommate that a
blender is not an extravagant gift. It’s actually quite practical—a good
breakfast is very important.”

“I can have a good breakfast without making it in
a very extravagant, four hundred dollar blender!” I tell him, completely
exasperated.

“Again. Not extravagant, Chloe. A car is an
extravagant gift. A trip to Paris is an extravagant gift. A—”

“Forty thousand dollar platinum and diamond belly chain
from Tiffany’s is an extravagant gift,” Tori continues for him. “But not a
blender, Chloe. Geez, you need to chill out.”

But the blender is now the least of my worries. “Forty
thousand dollars?” I squawk, my hands going to the jewelry I haven’t taken off
since the night we had our talk. “My belly chain cost forty thousand dollars?”

Ethan shoots my roommate a dirty look. “Thanks a
lot, Tori.”

She shrugs, then takes a bite of her apple. “At
least she’s not bitching about the blender anymore. Perspective, man. Perspective.”

Tuesday, May 20, 2014

Yay! I am so, so excited! Shattered, the second book in my Extreme Risk series, releases today :) I had so much fun writing Ash's story-- he and Tansy are a lot of fun together, despite the pretty weighty problems they have in their every day lives. You can check it out at Amazon, Barnes and Noble or iTunes, if you're interested. And in the meantime, here's one of my favorite scenes from the book :)

Blurb:

New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Tracy
Wolff’s edgy, emotional Extreme Risk series continues with the story of a
lost soul and the fearless beauty who inspires him to take a flying
leap back into life.

Ash Lewis has poured every last ounce of
his blood, sweat, and tears into reaching the very top of the
professional snowboarding world—until the unthinkable happens. After the
biggest competition win of his career, Ash’s mother and father are
killed in a tragic accident. Unable to handle the idea of going back out
on the snow to pursue the dream his parents shared with him, Ash feels
that he has no choice but to walk away from snowboarding forever. Then
he meets Tansy Hampton.

Wild, fun, and impulsive, Tansy has a
different look and a new passion every week. As a cancer survivor who
spent the past several years waiting to die, Tansy has a fresh
perspective on life—even if she doesn’t have a clue about what she
actually wants to do with it. But she’s determined to find out, and that
means making the most of her time while she still can.

From
the very beginning, their chemistry is intense. But while Ash can’t stop
chasing the ghosts of what can never be, Tansy stays firmly focused on
the possibilities the world holds for her—and for them. She’s already
picked up the pieces of one shattered life. Now she’s determined to help
Ash do the same.

Excerpt:

Another text message comes in, though, followed by
a third one and a fourth one and I can’t resist picking up the phone and at
least looking. At this point, if it is Luc or Cam, it’d be rude not to answer. I’ll
just tell them I have a headache or something. And if something is wrong, I
need to know about it, too.

Except, when I look, it isn’t Luc or Cam trying to
get my attention. And it isn’t Timmy’s parents telling me he’s taken a turn for
the worse. It’s my sister, Anna.

I can’t help smiling as I type a response. Then
again, Anna always makes me smile. Even at the worst times.

Me: Chile is great. And no, I haven’t slept with
anyone but myself.

Anna: :(

Me: How’s
home?

Anna: Boring. And I want details.
You mean no one’s even tried to feel you up? What’s wrong with those guys? You’re
on vacation with a bunch of superhot, super-fit guys. It should be all sex, all
the time! Are you not giving out the right pheromones?

I don’t answer right away, because I’m not sure
what I’m supposed to say here. I mean, Ash did feel me
up. He also did a lot more than that. He just didn’t let me reciprocate. Or
make any move today like he wanted me to reciprocate. Ever.

Anna: That’s a lot of radio
silence. Squeee! What happened? I WANT DEETS! Tell me everything!

I debate for several more seconds, trying to
decide just how badly I want to humiliate myself here. Then I decide, screw it.
Anna’s had a ton more experience with guys than I have. Maybe she can help. I
type my response fast, then hit send before I can think better of it.

Me:If a guy goes down on you
and then walks away before you can do anything for him, what does that mean?

Anna: Huh????????????

Oh, crap. It really is as bad as I thought.

Me: Ash. He,
you know, but then when I tried to do the same for him, he wouldn’t let me.

Anna: I
know, I know. It’s just . . . does he think his friend likes you? Maybe that’s
why he didn’t want to make a move?

Me: I kind
of think if he was worried about that, he wouldn’t have gone down on me to
begin with!

Anna: Hmm. Good
point.

Me: So?

Anna: I don’t
know.

Me: Do you
think . . . do you think I wasn’t any good? I mean, I didn’t really know what I
was doing.

Anna: Well,
what did you do?

Me: Seriously?

Anna: You
asked for help!

Me: I don’t
know. I just . . . I don’t know!

Anna: Okay,
okay, okay. Well, did it feel like you were doing it right?

Me: I don’t
know!

Anna: How
can you not know? Was he hard?

Me: Oh, God.

Anna: He
wasn’t hard????

Me: Of
course he was hard!

Anna: Oh,
well, that’s good.

Me: Oh, God.

Anna: Stop
being such a drama queen.

Me: Anna! I’ve
never done this before!

Anna: I
know, but every girl has to start somewhere.

Me: I
tried. I failed.

Anna: Weird.
I mean, usually I have to rip my own hand off a guy’s dick. Amid many protests.

Of course she does. Anna is beautiful and funny
and sweet and so much more experienced at this than I am. Not that I’m bitter
or anything. Especially when she’s not even giving me any tips here.

Me: So. Not. Helping.

Anna: Well,
are you sure your technique is correct?

Me: How
would I know?????

Anna: I don’t
know. Hey, have you tried watching porn? See what they do?

Me: ?!?!?!

Anna: You
know, to check out your technique. Maybe you really are doing it wrong. I mean,
it’s not that difficult, but everyone has to learn somewhere.

Me: I am
not watching porn to figure out how to give a blowjob!

Anna: Oh,
come on. You can’t tell me you’ve never seen it before. This time, just
consider it a tutorial instead of entertainment.

Me: Of
course I haven’t watched porn before.

Anna: Yeah,
right.

Anna: Wait
. . . you’re serious?

Me: I’ve
spent my life in the hospital! When exactly am I supposed to have had this
great education in pornography?

Anna: Your
room had wi-fi.

Me: Seriously?
With the nurses and doctors and MOM AND DAD coming in at all hours? I was
supposed to watch porn?

Anna: That’s
what I did most of the time we were waiting for you to get out of chemo or
surgery. Headphones, man. Best. Invention. Ever. I mean, next to internet porn.

Me: Oh. My.
God.

Anna: LOL

Me: Oh. My.
God.

Anna: Oh,
come on. Lighten up. You’re in a hotel room, alone. When is there going to be a
better time to figure this shit out? Doesn’t the hotel have like, pay-per-view movies? Get one of those.

Me: I’m
working here! I don’t think that can show up on the expense report!

Anna: Oh.
Right. Well then, do what every other kid in the world does. Download that shit
off the internet.

Me: I can’t.

Anna: You
totally can.

Me: I can’t.

Anna: You
totally should.

Me: I. CAN’T!

Anna: I’m
sending you links. I won’t take no for an answer. Do it. I expect a full report
when I text you tomorrow.

Me: Oh. My.
God.

Anna: Have
fun!:)

Me: Are you
there?

Me: Anna?

Me: Fuck.

Porn? My sister expects me to watch porn to figure
this out? Is she serious? I wouldn’t even know where to start! There’s no way I’m
going to do that. No way. I can’t believe I even told her. I expected real
help. Not porn.

Oh. My. God.

I flop back down on the bed, pull the pillow over
my face. And try very hard to ignore the fact that my obviously insane younger
sister might actually have a point.

Not that I’m going to listen to her, because . . .
Eeew. Porn. In a hotel room. Could I be
a bigger cliché?

Except . . . how else am I going to learn? I could
ask Luc, I guess. He’d probably be willing to teach me. Except . . . except,
no. I think I’d actually rather throw myself into a volcano.

And Ash is obviously off-limits for so many
reasons.

I could find some other guy—some hot Latin guy,
like Anna keeps talking about—to show me, but that seems pretty ick, too.

Maybe the porn isn’t such a terrible idea, after all.

What am I thinking? It’s an awful idea. A horrible
idea. An unbelievably bad idea. Except . . . how else am I going to learn?

Besides, I am completely alone in a hotel room.

No one would ever know.

And maybe I could, possibly, actually learn
something? I mean, presumably, these people are professionals. They know what
they’re doing, right? Not that I think Ash will ever touch me again, but
someone else might. Someday. And I don’t want to scare him away, too.

Oh, God. I can’t believe I’m even thinking about
this.

I’m not thinking about.

But I am. I totally am.

No, I’m not.

I stay where I am for another five minutes or so,
going back and forth in my head, trying to decide what to do. I want to go to
sleep, or to at least forget Anna ever suggested it. But I can’t forget it. It’s
right there, in the front of my mind, taunting me with the possibility. Making
me wonder. Making me—

Screw it. I throw the pillow across the room, then
pick up my tablet off the nightstand. I don’t have to do anything. I can just
check my email, see if Anna sent any links. She probably didn’t. She was
probably just messing with me.

But if she did, maybe I could try one out, just to
see what it’s like. And if she didn’t . . . well, if she didn’t, then I’m sure
I can find something else to do with my time. Something that does not involve
naked strangers.

Except, when I log on and open my email account,
the first thing I see is an email from Anna with the subject line: 69 Things You Need to Know. Jesus. My
sister really does have the sense of humor of a fifteen-year-old boy.

There are a bunch of links—sixty-nine to be exact
(and can I just ask where my sister finds the time to watch this much
porn?????)—to sites with names like comegetthebigdick.com and tapthatass.net. I mean, seriously? Do
people actually Google this shit? I don’t even know what to say.

I stare at the list for long seconds, trying to
figure out where to start. But each site looks worse than the next, so finally
I end up closing my eyes and just clicking.

I end up at comeandgetme.com and my eyes nearly
bug out of my head at the pictures on the home page. Naked women on their hands
and knees, with—

Okay, nope. Need a new site.

I randomly click again, and this time I end up at
a site with a bunch of naked men on the home page—all with enormous dicks. God,
is it even possible for them to be that—

Nope. Close that. Random click again.

This time it’s a gay site, which, okay. I mean,
guys know how other guys like to be touched, right? This could be a good site
for me. I could learn a lot. Except is that guy doing what I think—

Nope. Close that.

What the hell kind of deranged lunatic is my
sister anyway? This is what she was doing while I was getting chemo?
Jesus. I’ve only been at it five minutes and I feel like my eyes, and my brain,
need to be permanently bleached.

Okay. I’m going to give this one more shot. If it
doesn’t work, I’m giving up. I’ll go find a convent or a monastery or something
where I never have to worry about giving hand jobs or blowjobs, or any other kind of
jobs, ever again. I hear Tibet is nice this time of year. I could totally be a
Buddhist. I look great in orange. Plus, I’ve already done the shaved head thing
a bunch of times.

Taking a deep breath, I brace myself and click on
another site, this one with the dubious web address of
howmanylicksdoesittake.com. I’m not going to lie. I’m a little concerned, but
it seems like the best option—holy shit. Is that a Doberman?

I’m done. I’m done. I’m so fucking done.

I start to close it, but there’s a hard knock at
my door and it startles me so much that I end up clicking on a video near the
top right side of the screen. Obscene noises fill my hotel room.

I try to click it off, but a little window pops up
asking if I’m sure I want to leave. Yes. Yes, God, yes. I’m sure. But when I
click the yes, it just takes me back to the video.

No! Goddamnit. I can practically feel the viruses
leaping through my firewall by the second—and only half of them are electronic.
Is it possible to get STDs from a porn site?

The knock sounds again, a little louder and more
impatient this time.

“Coming. I’m coming!” I shout, even as the woman
on screen starts giving a pretty good impression of doing that very same thing.

Oh my God.

I am so going to kill Anna the next time I see
her.

I try once more to close the window, but that same
stupid box pops up again. And again, it refuses to let me actually shut
anything.

“Tansy?” Ash’s voice comes through the door. “Are
you okay?”

“Fine! I’m fine!” Fuck it. I click pause—of course
the stupid thing lets me do that—and then I bury the tablet under
a pillow on the bed.

I’m so freaked out by everything I’ve just seen,
and by the fact that my sister is obviously some kind of sex fiend, that I forget
to be nervous about the fact that Ash is on the other side of my door. At least
until I open it and find myself looking straight up into his beautiful,
concerned face.

“Are you all right?” he asks, reaching a hand out
and pressing it to my forehead. “You sounded funny. And you look a little
flushed. Are you sick?”

“No, I’m good. I was just . . . exercising.” Exercising?
Seriously, Tansy? Is that the best you can come up with?

“Uh, no. Of course not. I forgot my yoga pants so
I was working out in my underwear, but then you knocked and I had to put my
jeans back on.”

“Oh, right.” His eyes darken a little and he
shakes his head as if he’s trying to clear it. Not that I blame him. I did just
mention my underwear to him. He probably thinks I want a repeat of last night. Which,
to be honest, I wouldn’t mind. Well, except for the last part. And the part
where my guy of choice is probably, at this very moment, trying to figure out
how to get the hell away from the crazy sex fiend who doesn’t know how to take “not
interested” for an answer. It’s a good thing he’s never met Anna. He’d probably
run screaming into the night. Then again, she probably knows how to
give one hell of a blow job.

Oh, God. Where is a bottle of bleach when you need
it? I am never going to forgive my sister for this. Never.

“Tansy? Are you sure you’re all right?” Ash puts a
hand on my arm, closes the door
behind him and guides me toward the bed. “Why don’t
you sit down for a couple minutes? You look a little . . . ”

Bewildered? Freaked out? Insane? Is this a
multiple choice test, because right now, I swear I’d pick all of the above.

“Hot. You look really, really hot.”

Somehow, I don’t think he means that in the good
way.

I sit, because I can’t do anything else, not with
Ash standing over me like that. And because I really, really need him to stop
touching me. My mind knows he’s not interested, but all my body remembers is
the pleasure he gave me last night and it is very interested. Sparks are
tearing through me, originating at all the places he’s just touched and
spreading outward from there.

Except, as I settle onto the bed, my hand brushes
against my pillow. As it does, I must jostle the tablet and unpause it because
the next thing I know a series of very loud, very unmistakable sounds is
filling up my hotel room.

Ash’s eyes go wide as he registers what the sounds
are, and then a wicked grin creeps across his face. “Exercising, huh?”

Oh, God.

Why, why, why is there never an erupting volcano
around when a girl needs one?